Leaving Again
by orliNkeira
Summary: HectorAndromache. Nothing stands in their way except whether she can give in. Is it fear, pride, hatred or love? She is curious and yet afraid of what she might find. But how can she isolate herself from the truth when it stares at her in her face?Review.
1. Default Chapter

Andromache stared out blankly at the vast sea before her, the night wind whipping her long hair against her face. The sea was still and calm, the horizon and edge of the sea meeting and blending to form a velvet blackness.

The cold air circled her like a hawk over its prey and large bumps began to form on her exposed skin. In the thick darkness her fair, slightly bronzed skin stood out starkly like a pariah. The hollow emptiness in her heart tugged gently at her once more, an unwanted reminder of the life she had been given to without choice.

Andromache rubbed her arms up and down, hugging herself in the innate solitude that threatened to swallow her and leave her in desperate tears.

She sighed softly to herself and looked around the deserted deck. Spotting a small figure of a girl resting against the wooden deck, she was startled momentarily before remembering that it was only her young handmaiden.

Forgetting her thoughts, her features creased into a slight frown as she walked towards her. She knelt down beside the young girl's sleeping form and gently shook her awake.

Jolting upright, the girl's eyes flew open in sudden shock and darted wildly about before they came to rest on Andromache.

Andromache gave her a smile, hoping to put her at ease and helped her up.

"My Lady," the girl began nervously, " forgive me. It was not my intention to fall asleep. I meant to stay up with you but I…" She trailed off, her words filled with utmost remorse.

Unable to help herself, Andromache laughed. "Chruse, I should be the one apologizing. I could not expect you to have no need for sleep. I'm sorry, I got carried away."

Relief washed over the handmaiden's face and she gave Andromache a small appreciative smile.

"You may retire now Chruse, I would like to stay here awhile more."

" Don't worry, I will be fine, there is no one to harm me." She added, seeing the uncertain look Chruse wore.

With a grateful nod, Chruse disappeared below deck and once again, Andromache found herself alone. In truth she did not mind the lack of company. It was the empty ache within her that she could not forget or pretend it did not exist.

Tomorrow the ship would be arriving on the shores of Troy. In Thebe in Cilicia, a country of small size and even more minute power compared to Troy, the people had looked upon her to bring the promise of peace and demise of war to their homeland. By giving her to Troy, her father had sacrificed his daughter for hundreds of lives that would have been lost in inevitable battle. Idly, she traced out the pattern of the wood grains on the wooden railing with her finger as her thoughts traveled further back in time.

She had grown up in the delicate complexities of politics where she had learnt it was of utmost importance to stay one step ahead of the enemy. She had watched over many exchanges, where anything, gold, jewels, armies, extraordinary animals, men and women were passed along like barter trade. The process was quick, swift and even cunning.

As Princess of Thebes, she loved her country and had known that a time would come for sacrifice, but this time, not the sacrifice of others for her, but the her sacrifice for others. She was prepared, but nothing took it all away than finally knowing the extent of her sacrifice. 

Being given to Prince Hector of Troy for marriage was not so much of sacrificing her happiness, having always believed that happiness could always be found regardless of the situation. Growing up with seven brothers, they had always managed to find something to laugh about despite all the trouble they got into.

It was more of leaving everything she ever knew behind. What shattered her most was leaving her family with the knowledge that she might never see them again. Of course it was physically possible to do so, but once she became Princess of Troy, Hector's wife, the circumstances would change and everything had to be considered in a different light.

She smiled wistfully to herself, thinking of the mischievous grins and twinkling eyes her brothers possessed. She missed them greatly and sighed softly again at the thought of what her new life would consist of.

Childbearing, motherhood, idle chats, sewing and weaving, making a presence at dinners and grand banquets… 

It was all the same, so dull, so monotonous, and so…_meaningless_.

_What if I just fade away after I bear a son? Will Hector even remember me? Love me? _At the last thought her lips twitched. The very idea that Hector would actually love her was so impossible that it was laughable.

She could not imagine what kind of person would accept a marriage proposal without meeting his bride and knowing that by his acceptance, she would be wrenched out of all she knew and separated from her family. She had already formed an impression of him in her mind; a solemn, war-beaten, apathetic person. Other than that, having never met him before, she could form no image in her mind of what he might look like.

But then, a tiny glimmer of hope still resided within her that maybe Prince Hector would not be the man she imagined. Some tiny part of her prayed that he would be loyal and faithful to her and love her. And maybe, _just maybe_, she thought, as her smile grew wider in a girlish grin, he would have features like that of a god and be young and handsome.

Absentmindedly she played with her fingers, almost numb with cold and let her gaze drift out to the endless black sea once more.

Slowly an image of Theseus and her splashing water at each other played in her memory. It had been years ago, but the sound of their laughter resounded loudly and clearly in her ears, seeming so real. And caught up in the reminiscence, she whirled around, almost expecting to see her brother's smiling face before her.

_But of course,_ Andromache thought bitterly as her face fell and grew red with her childish hopes, _he is not here. It was all just a foolish dream…_

Suddenly the hollow in her heart surfaced again and hot tears prickled at her eyes. Roughly she brushed them away with the back of her hand. Turning sharply, she made her way below deck.

At that moment, she was struck with the unfairness of it all, the selfishness and stupidity of the situation she was in, and the heartless man who had torn her away from her comfort and security.

Her stomach clenched into a tight ball at the nagging reminder that they would meet tomorrow and a swell of anger rose up, but remained in her throat.

Tomorrow she would see, and tomorrow she would know.

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I have been thinking about a Hector/Andromache story for quite a while. I hope you like it and please bear in mind that I may make slight changes to this chapter if I feel the need to do so. Thank you. Also, all the names that will and has been used in this story that are not from the movie, are authentic Greek names, not made up ones.


	2. Two

A heavy gold earring hung from her ear, making soft tinkling sounds as the wind blew against the gold beads dangling from it. Carefully, Andromache pulled her dark brown hair back from her face, closing one eye as she began to apply a steady streak of kohl on her eyelid.

She blinked as the soft stick of colour lost contact with her skin and switching hands expertly, she applied another streak of kohl on the other eye. And then she was done.

Putting down the stick, she regarded herself in the mirror briefly before standing up, the long folds of her dress swishing into place.

Andromache stood still for a moment, finding herself unable to grasp the reality of the situation. The cold anger from the night before found its way to her throat again and she swallowed. For a moment her expression was blank and her eyes empty, staring straight ahead.

Then, almost as if there had been no hesitation, her eyes cleared and the corner of her mouth turned up in a slight smile. She walked briskly towards the wooden door of her room, and giving one last fleeting glance at the room she had lived in for four weeks, she pushed open the door and left.

As she climbed the stairs with slow steady steps, carefully holding up the delicate trail of dress, she willed herself to keep the smile on. Her stained lips were pressed tightly together and her eyes held dry excitement and anticipation. Inside her stomach was gradually churning itself into tight nervous knots and the insides of her mouth suddenly felt dry and sticky. Her long pale fingers were moist and warm and a staggering wave of nausea swept through her.

Andromache paused in her footsteps, breathing in deeply.

_I can't do this!_ , She wanted to scream.

All the what if's and worries that she had, sprung out at her and she envisioned herself married to a dispassionate, cold man. All of a sudden an overpowering fear took hold of her and she leaned back against the wall, her knuckles turning white from her tight grip.

Her breathing was heavy and her eyes darted wildly around her. There was no escape, she _had_ to do this, when all the truly wanted was her life back. Everything became so clear, so real and so painfully certain that she would have to get married no matter what happened later.

Just then, a young maiden with light brown hair came rushing down in a frantic manner, her eyes wide and hair in disarray. She gave a relieved sigh at the sight of Andromache and flew towards her. Quickly Andromache smoothened her hair and gave Chruse a weak smile as she reached her side.

"My Lady!"Chruse gasped loudly, " The horses are here! They've come to take you to the citadel now!"

Andromache paled slightly at the bit of news, staring desperately at the young girl in helplessness.

_There's nothing she can do to help me either!_

Chruse peered curiously at Andromache's stricken face for a moment, before remembering the urgency of the situation and her features snapped back into their flustered creases.

"Come My Lady, we must hurry! We cannot keep Prince Hector waiting!" Chruse said, grabbing Andromache's arm and pulling her towards the stairs.

"Wait! Your veil! It's not down yet!" she exclaimed. Andromache nodded numbly and reached with fumbling fingers at the back of her head for the thin wispy veil and placed it over her face.

With Chruse's help, she managed to make it up the wooden steps, across the deck and down the low ramp to the horses waiting without ruining her dress.

Two golden chariots stood proudly awaiting her arrival and a middle-aged man decked in royal robes of gold, blue and black came up to meet her.

Through her light veil she could see the large bulks of gold and precious stones that adorned his fingers, and the warm smile and welcoming eyes that he wore. Immediately, she was soothed and the fearful numbness paralyzing her slowly began to melt away.

Andromache bowed respectfully as he did the same and straightened up.

"My respects to you My Lady. King Priam has sent his finest horses and chariots to receive you. He is anxious to finally meet you after such high praises from you father, King Eetion."

After catching sight of the momentary flicker of uneasiness in her expression, he added, in a friendly, rumbling voice, "And our Prince too, I'm sure, is very anxious to meet his bride." He gave a hearty laugh and Andromache smiled.

"Thank you My Lord, for such a welcome." She said.

He gave a slight chuckle. "I trust your journey was smooth, Princess Andromache?" he inquired.

"Yes…it was a…pleasant journey. The seas were especially calm." She replied carefully.

"Ahh, we must thank Poseidon for that!"

They came to a stop in front of two magnificent gleaming chariots made of solid gold and embedded with glimmering gemstones. The smooth edges were carved with intricate designs while the wheels were made of wood polished so highly that they shone in the bright sunlight.

A young girl with gold brown hair stood waiting nearby, struggling to hold up a huge shade that was almost twice as tall as her. The rim of the shade was patterned with gold scalloped cloth and sewn with tiny sparkling stones.

The old feeling of nausea crept through her and she suddenly found the whole structure a monstrosity, a garish, gaudy affair that seemed so proud and arrogant in itself. Unknowingly, she found herself shaking her head and backing away from the chariot. The old man's smiling face morphed into one of utmost bewilderment and concern.

"Princess Andromache, is anything the matter?"

She did not really hear his words, only the repeated thought that she could not, and would not get onto that sickeningly ornate assemble.

Slowly she found herself uttering the words "No, I, I can't use that."

The old man looked at her, astounded at her words, not quite sure if he had indeed heard her correctly. Even Chruse was regarding her in a look of pure amazement and disbelief.

"I'm sorry, My Lady?" the Trojan man ventured uncertainly.

"Could I ride on one of the horses instead My Lord?" Andromache turned to ask him, a faint plea in her voice. She was certain she would vomit if she were to enter Troy in that chariot. The thing itself was a whole representation of the richness and wealth here in Troy, so different, so unfamiliar with everything in Thebe. An unwarranted feeling of hatred rose up in her and she struggled to force it down.

She could not take it; already her stomach and nerves had worked itself into a tight bundle of twisted knots.

The old man looked greatly shocked at her request, but nevertheless granted it graciously. After a brief exchange of words with the other officials, he led a tall chestnut coloured mare to her.

"Here My Lady. Nyx will not harm you, I can assure you that."

With Chruse's help once more, Andromache managed to haul herself up the horse's back without ripping the fine cloth of her dress. She managed quite well on top of the horse, much to the surprise of the old Trojan man and the officials. She had ridden a few horses in her life, and though not a spectacular rider, she was good at handling them.

However, the old man would not hear of Andromache riding atop the horse without assistance and so ordered a solider to lead the horse by the reins on foot.

In good time, they made their way up the beaches of Troy. The great stronghold with its mighty, impenetrable honey walls of stone and rock loomed before their well-sized procession like a formidable competitor, full of glory, honour and pride.

As the horses trotted up to the huge vast doors of Troy, Andromache took in a deep breath. She could hear the faint tunes of music and the sound of welcome and celebration from the people. As the great wooden doors started to pull open, revealing the dancing and laughing crowds inside, Andromache closed her eyes and thought of the last words her father had spoken to her.

_"Be strong Andromache. Make your country proud. Make me proud." _

She nodded silently to herself, gritting her teeth in renewed resolution. That was what she was going to do, regardless of how Hector looked and was like. Regardless of how Troy turned out to be. She squeezed her eyes tight, ignoring the hot tears that had sprung up behind her closed eyelids.

When she opened her eyes again, she gasped weakly.

Multitudes of people with smiling, twinkling eyes stared back at her, the snaking line lost behind an enormous stone building. And there, right ahead, at the very highest point, was the citadel. A small crowd of men stood overlooking the noisy crowds and one of them, she knew, was Hector.

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Thank you for your reviews. They are greatly appreciated. I hope you like this. Just incase you were wondering, Nyx means night. Thanks.


	3. Three

After a short delay, the procession made their way up to the entrance of the citadel and the horse Andromache was on came to a gentle halt. A pattering of footsteps came running her way and with Chruse's help once more, Andromache slid down the horse's high back. She nodded politely to the soldier who had helped her and turned to face the huddle of officials who stood to one side, their hands pointed up towards the steps for her to proceed first.

Andromache gave them a nod and carefully holding up her trailing dress with both hands, she climbed the first step with Chruse following dutifully behind her. As she climbed, she began taking in the grand welcome she had received from the people earlier. Almost lost in the crowds of people, the loud roars of laughter and joyous music filling her ears, she could only look upon the people and wave.

Almost instantly when the people of Troy had come into full view, she had noticed that the women of Troy were distinctly different from her in terms of their looks. Their fine light-coloured hair of gold or sandy brown shone in the warm sunlight and their skins were a lightly brushed with a bronze hue. Her hair, on the other hand, was a dark rich brown, similar to that of kohl and her skin was fair and pale, with only a slight hint of a golden tan.

The people had looked contented and happy, with good lives. She had seen few poverty-stricken people or beggars, but perhaps she had not taken enough notice of them. When the horses had begun to push their way forward, at once, the people parted, forming a neat wide path for them to pass through. The women had thrown pretty bunches of flowers at her, while some watching from above had whispered and pointed at her.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she nearly failed to notice that she had reached the top step, that had it not been for Chruse nudging her softly from behind, she would have surely made a disgrace of herself. Immediately she looked up and met face to face with a small crowd of people, all royalty, judging from their fine clothing of black, dark blue and gold threads. Although she wore a veil to keep her face hidden from others, she could see fairly well from behind it.

An old man with fine silvery hair stood with his arms wide open, his watery blue eyes sparkling as though an unknown power resided within. He had on a pleased smile and opened his mouth to speak.

"Ah! Princess Andromache! At last! My sons and I have been awaiting your arrival." He strode towards her in quick steps, placing two hands on her shoulders as Andromache bowed carefully.

When she raised her head once more, she smiled. King Priam, her father-in-law, made her feel right at home with his sincere welcome.

Then he stepped back, and two young men stepped forward. One was taller and well built, the other lean and tanned golden brown. She bowed in respect, knowing that either one must be Prince Hector.

"My Lady," they greeted in response, while Priam's voice cut in.

"This, My lady," he gestured to the taller man, "Is Prince Hector, your future husband. While this," he paused, gesturing to the other man with a fond twitch of his lips, "Is Prince Paris, his brother."

Swiftly her eyes turned to face Hector and she took in a greater view of his looks. With dark brown curls to match hers, deep brown eyes and a kind, yet strong face, she knew her father had not made the wrong choice. He was a good man, the tales and praises of him were true, she could tell. But what she didn't know was whether she could come to accept him and love him, despite his qualities. She believed that one could learn to love with time, but she could not gage how long it would take for her, except that it was hard to think of him as her husband, but as the one who had taken her away from her family.

She stood silently, a little overwhelmed at finally meeting him, her mind swimming with hundreds of thoughts about this new inclusion in her life standing before her, while she unknowingly continued to rest her eyes upon him. Slowly she felt his eyes flicker down to hers, an almost tender-like welcome in them. Before she think deeper into it, her attention was snapped back when she felt another hard nudge from behind.

The group had started to move.

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Sorry for the long wait. Hope you like this. Thank you for the reviews, it is much appreciated.


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